


Rain is Rebirth

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I look up at him and meet his eyes. I notice, with surprise, that he’s crying too. I’m relieved to see his tears, and all I manage to whisper is 'I love you, Steven Rogers.'<br/>'Till the end of the line?'<br/>'Till the end of the line.'<br/>I can feel again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain is Rebirth

Bucky  
It’s really cold in here. Having a metal arm doesn’t necessarily help with that. My head is spinning with thoughts. No, memories, wind washing over my face as I rode that ride with him in… what was it? Cory Island? No, Coney Island. A man with a narrow build, so fragile and gentle, but lit with fiery ambition, hugging me, sparking my heart to life.  
I wander to the other side of the room. My eyes trail up to a black and white screen with a caption beside it: “Captain America’s best friend both in and out of Battle: James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.” That name sounds so familiar to me, but no matter how hard I try to put my finger on it, I can’t. I grasp at the thin air. What was it?  
Then, a memory resurfaces. My face off with Captain America on the helicarrier about 2 weeks ago. That name had fallen out of his lips. “Bucky, you’ve known me your whole life.” My heart skips a beat and water springs to my eyes.  
What is this?  
Tears. You’re crying, my brain supplies.  
I hurriedly throw my hood over my head, masking my unruly brown hair, and through blurred vision, I exit the museum. My thoughts are now a whirling, jumbled mess.  
Another memory resurfaces. This time, it’s Captain America looking down at me, saying that name… Bucky. No that’s not right. Steve. Much better. Steven Grant Rogers. Then the feeling of relief and surprise and affection simultaneously as I looked up at him. I gasp. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. Thank God there’s no one behind the building. I lean wearily against the wall and sink to the ground in a shuddering heap, thankful for the silence. When I touch my face, I notice that my cheeks are wet. Too many memories, too many thoughts. My head throbs. I clutch it in my hands, the metal one cool and calming against my feverish skin.  
Then I hear it. Footsteps. Sounds like heels. I whip my gun out of my belt and aim it towards the sound. Just as I thought, that red-haired girl who I faced on the street stands not 20 feet away with her own gun pointed at my head. I deflect her first two shots with my metal arm before something knocks me over, sending my head swimming and stars bursting across my vision. Before I black out, I catch a glimpse of a star painted on a circular metallic plate.

Steve  
I didn’t want to throw my shield at him, but what choice did I have? Still, my heart clenches as it hits the side of his head. I hop down from the roof I was crouching on, my leather boots making no sound as they hit the concrete. I walk over to him and lift his hood. I wince. The left side of his forehead is red, on the verge of darkening to purple. Even though I haven’t seen him for two weeks, it seems as though he hasn’t quite healed completely from the helicarrier incident. I swallow the lump rising in in my throat as I see Nat’s silhouette moving toward me.  
She stops two feet from us. “Ready?” Her voice carries some note of sympathy, an emotion not commonly associated with the Black Widow. I suck in my breath, suppressing my rising tears, and nod.  
As we hoist Bucky onto the back seat, Natasha meets my eyes.  
“Are you sure this is safe?” she asks.  
I shake my head wordlessly. Of course it’s not safe. The killing machine embedded in him by HYDRA could wake at any moment. But some part of me feels as though I can stop it.  
She tilts her head slightly, as if saying ‘really, dude? I can’t believe you.’  
Before I can stop myself, I blurt out to her, “We can’t just leave him here! I love him!”  
Nat’s eyes widen before she looks down at the ground.  
“I’m sorry.” I inhale sharply, trying to keep my emotions from spilling onto my face, but they already did.  
“Don’t apologize. I know you do.”  
Something rumbles in the distance. I look up at the sky. The clouds are painted angry shades of gray and black, and once in a while, a brilliant flash of light sets the sky on fire.  
“We better hurry back. I’m in no rush to drive in the rain,” I say, hoping this will distract her.  
I sit beside an unconscious Bucky resting on my bed. I watch his chest rise and fall, his face illuminating every time a flash of lightning pervades the window. One of my hands is entwined with his, the skin warm and soft. Rain dances on the sill, the droplets forming a mist that clouds the view, its quiet humming making me drowsy.  
Natasha said she had to go somewhere, and God knows where the rest of the Avengers are. Probably trying, in vain, to lift Thor’s hammer and whack someone with it. My point: we’re home alone, to my delight.  
Now that Bucky is asleep, I take in every detail of his face that I never noticed before. His brows are no longer scrunched together, his skin is smooth, and his lips are slightly parted. I swear, he looked like some Greek god that had come down to Earth.  
I had always loved my best friend. Always looked up to him, swore to protect him. I’m still bound by the promise I made aboard the helicarrier. But for some reason, the swell of affection I’m feeling is different. I’m looking at him from a new angle, waters I had not dared to touch 70 years ago due to social norms. All I hear is my heart hammering against my ribs. This time, I don’t try to resist. I lean in so my face hovers above Bucky’s, and touch my lips to his cheek. Even though all Bucky does is stir ever so slightly in his sleep, I still feel my face burn. A small giggle escapes me as I feel a hint of mischief creeping into my actions. Before I know it, I nod off beside him, my head resting on the bed.

Bucky  
When I come to, the first thing I’m aware of is the rain. I remember reading somewhere that in literature, rain always symbolized rebirth.  
My head throbs. I sit straight up, pressing my palm to my forehead, trying to make the dull pain subside. When I look up, I realize that my surroundings have changed and are now a dimly lit bedroom with a desk in the corner and a night stand beside me with an old-fashioned lamp that requires the yanking of a string to turn on. There is no one else in the room, yet I can sense another presence here, the ghost of someone who was here not long ago. Pieces of my dream still linger, and I don’t know how to react. I had dreamed that he had walked in and kissed my cheek.  
I sigh and push the covers aside. Then a flicker of movement in the hallway calls my attention. I jump and turn around.  
It’s Steve. I savor the mixed emotions that are aroused at the same time, because for the first time in decades, I can feel again, and I love it. Shock, Relief, Joy, Anger, Guilt, and Love. Even in the dim lamplight, I can see him perfectly. His eyes are two deep blue oceans, just like they always were, his complexion light and his beautiful contours accented by the darkness.  
And I break down. Just like that. The sight of him sends waves of sorrow washing over my body, and I start sobbing, because I can remember the way I had yelled at him, punched him, and shot him. I let him fall into the Potomac. I collapse to the floor in sudden weakness. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.  
“Bucky!!” he yells gruffly. Then suddenly he’s here, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to him so that my head is against his chest.  
“Steve,” I whisper. It’s all I can say before another wave of dark emotions pulls me under and I scream. I scream for everything that happened, for HYDRA taking me away, for breaking my promise to him, for hurting him.  
I expect him to push me away, to demand that I leave and never come back because of what I had done. But he doesn’t. He just holds me in his arms, stroking my hair. My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I don’t deserve this. How can he forgive me for this?  
After what seems like an eternity, the monster of grief finally starts to loosen its grip, and I sit there gasping for air. The room feels stuffy, and I can’t breathe properly.  
“Bucky, you’re ok. It’s ok.”  
Then his voice turns quieter, but seemingly with more of a hidden emotion that makes me want to stay like this forever. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”  
I look up at him and meet his eyes. I notice, with surprise, that he’s crying too. I’m relieved to see his tears, and all I manage to whisper is “I love you, Steven Rogers.”  
Something flickers behind his expression, and his hand reaches up to touch my face, and, in one smooth motion, he wipes a tear away and gingerly tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.  
My breaths are now coming in short, smothered gasps. “I’m dizzy,” I whisper. “I need air…”  
“There’s a lift, it will take us to the roof,” he says.  
Then he helps me to my feet and slings my arm over his shoulders to support me. I lean heavily on him.  
Then we walk out into The Tempest. Or, I do. Steve stays by the doorway to the elevator, watching me quietly and intently. Thunder shakes the world, but I don’t fall over.  
I inhale sharply, breathing in life. The rain is freezing, but I don’t care, it feels like I’m flying. I spread my arms out and let the water splash onto me, clean and refreshing. This is what it is to live.  
A hand on my arm distracts me from my thoughts. I turn stare back into two ocean irises, full of admiration and longing. It’s Steve’s expression that draws me in. The rain seemed to have given me a sudden rush of courage. I lean forward and kiss him lightly, my heart turning a somersault in my chest, not caring that we are both drenched in rain.  
Then I come back to my senses. What the fuck, James? What was that? Stop! STOP IT!!! I pull back immediately, suddenly repulsed at what I had done. After hurting him and nearly killing my best friend, how could I let myself succumb to this? He would never reciprocate. I just know it. A bone-deep sense of loneliness pools in my chest, and I back away from him, staring down at the ground between us.  
Then his hand on the small of my back stops me. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking at his perfect complexion again. Then we’re kissing again, really kissing, our chests pressed firmly together, the heat radiating from his body warming me and sending my skin tingling. Our kiss is deep and patient and exploring, and I delight in how he leans into me, aching for more. I’m definitely flying now. His hands stroke my soaked unruly hair and brush against my skin, sending chills of delight dancing down my spine. I wrap my arms around his neck, careful to keep my metal one from getting him cold, twine my fingers into his short hair.  
It feels like hours pass before we finally pull away from each other. My cheeks are hot with blush, and I notice that Steve’s are turning pink, too. For the first time since I saw him, I relax and lean my head on his chest, and we stay like that for a long time, letting the rain wash over us. “’Till the end of the line?” he murmurs against my hair.  
“’Till the end of the line,” I reply.  
I can feel again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!! I had so much fun writing this. I'm so sick of the fics where one or both of them dies... NOT FAIR.  
> So yeah, I tried :3


End file.
